Chapter 1 : Break the routine
My story begins in Moulineaux, a small French town where life is good, located away from the big cities but close enough to find everything you need within a half-hour drive. In the town center, a few apartment buildings stand alongside old buildings that form the town's historic core. The further you get from the center, the more spaced out the houses become, revealing beautiful little gardens, some more flowery than others. A canal runs the length of the town, dividing it in two but not its inhabitants. Although Moulineaux is larger and more populated than a village, its residents are warm and close-knit, always ready to lend a hand and help one another. The town is beautifully adorned with flowers, especially along the canal, and many events take place there, strengthening the sense of community and the quality of life.
"James, wait for us!" shouts a young man, running up the sidewalk to catch up with another.
James, that's me, James Beauvent. 5'6", brown hair, blue eyes, and a slim, rather athletic build, even though I don't do a lot of sports. The excited little blond boy running towards me is Max, my best friend. We've known each other since we were little and we've never lost touch. I still remember our first day of school when he came up to me.
"Here, this is for you." said the blond boy, holding out a pebble to the brunette in front of him.
"A pebble?!" said the brunette, surprised.
"Now we're friends!" said the blond boy, all excited.
"Well, yes you do. I lent you my pebble, so we're friends."
At the time, I couldn't grasp this irrefutable logic, and so we became friends. Years have passed, arguments have sometimes erupted, but they never lasted, and our friendship has endured. We've always supported each other through tough times, whether it was breakups or failed exams, and we've never kept secrets from each other.
"You guys just have to hurry up, we're going to be late for class! I told you it was just not good to grab fast food during lunch break." I said loudly enough, turning around so the three other people behind us could hear.
I'm not a particularly good student, but I manage to get average grades in every class and I don't draw attention to myself. And if there's one thing I hate, it's being late for class. Especially when it's Mr. Dart's class, our history teacher. He's a rather old teacher who gets annoyed over nothing and loves giving extra homework to latecomers.
âOh, come on, James, relax. Itâs almost the end of the year, exams are coming up, so the old grump wonât be able to do much to us.â said one of the girls, Chloe, catching up with us.
It felt like weâd only celebrated New Yearâs a few weeks ago, yet spring was already well underway and exam season was fast approaching. In a few weeks, two to be exact, weâd be sitting at our tables, looking much more serious, putting our futures on the line.
âExactly, we have exams to study for instead of having to give a presentation for him.â
âIn any case, it was really worth it, we had a great time and the food was good.â said the third boy in the group, Tom, arriving and putting his arm around Chloeâs shoulder.
"You're telling me, you could have warned me beforehand, I would have worn sneakers instead of these shoes. I'm sure I'll have gotten blisters." said the second girl, still a little behind.
"Sabrina, I told you to wear sneakers, but you wouldn't listen!"
We continued on our way, approaching the entrance to the high school, when an idea crossed Tom's mind.
"Hey, how about we go to the movies tomorrow afternoon?"
"I can't, I have my karate class." I explained.
The Wednesday afternoon classes are the only sport I do. Since I was little, my father has made me take martial arts classes. The sports variedâjudo, boxing, taekwondo, karateâand the instructors changed too, but the place and time were always the same: at home, Wednesday afternoons from 2:00 to 4:30. I never understood his obsession with these sports, but he wasn't around much, so I didn't really have time to talk to him about it.
"Oh, come on, you're not going to ditch us to go to your class! Besides, you never fight, so what's the point of karate?"
"It was my dad who insisted I take these classes, and it's not so bad, it helps you let off steam. Usually, I imagine myself hitting old Draft on the head, but when you steal my dessert in the cafeteria, it's yours I imagine hitting."
Tom feigned shock while the others laughed. We finally arrived at the high school and hurried to our classroom to get there just before class started.
When our last class of the day ended, I left the school, said goodbye to my friends, and took the bus home, like every evening. It dropped me off on the street perpendicular to mine, and I only had a few meters to walk to reach my parents' house.
My mother died of cancer shortly before I started school, and my father is always away for work, so I'm used to being alone when I get home. When I was born, my father barely took a few days to stay and get to know me and help my mother before leaving again for who-knows-where, and even after she died, he didn't stop traveling for more than a week. So I spent my childhood with a housekeeper, Sophie, whom I know better than my own father. I don't really know what kind of work he does that he considers more important than his own family and that requires him to always be on the go, but it must pay well since, during all this time, he's paid a housekeeper, school fees, and all the expenses related to the house and food. He still finds time to contact Sophie to check in on me and give me instructions, like to attend these karate classes.
I'm walking on the sidewalk across from our house when I see someone waiting in front of it. My father used to pay a gardener who came by from time to time to plant flowers, prune trees, and tend to the existing blooms so that the garden and the driveway leading to the house would be full of flowers and color. The contrast between the flowers and the long black coat of the man standing in front of the door made his presence all too obvious.
I stop and look at this dark figure from a distance, unsure what to do. Who is it? Is it someone my father knows? I doubt it; he never invites anyone here since he's never here. Is he a burglar? Not dressed like that, and besides, Sophie's here, so he won't steal anything. I focus on the silhouette, trying to figure out who it could be. What I initially thought was a coat was actually a kind of large black veil the individual is wearing over their head. They're also wearing what looks like a black vest and a long dress of the same color. Looking closely at the different garments, you realize the person wearing them isn't very tall, actually quite short.
The wind blows and snatches part of the veil, revealing their white hair styled in a small bun. The individual turns a quarter turn to catch it and put it back on their head. This movement allows me to see part of their face. It's a woman who looks rather elderly. Thinking there wasn't much risk, I decided to cross the street to meet her in front of my house. Seeing movement out of the corner of my eye, the woman turned to face me. The wrinkles on her face reflected the years she had lived, and two small, barely open eyes stared intently at me. I continued walking and stopped a few steps from her.
"Um... Hello. Excuse me, but you're in front of my house, and I'd like to come in," I said timidly, hoping she wasn't a psychopath.
"You must be James then. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, even though I wish it had been under different circumstances," she replied calmly.
"You know my name!? But who are you?" I asked, concentrating on her face, trying to recognize her.
"I'm your grandmother, on your father's side. He's probably never mentioned me to you because I live so far away."
"My grandmother? I don't see the connection with you living far away. My maternal grandfather lives far away too, and yet my father told me about him, and we visit him at least once a year. Excuse me, but I'd like to go home. I'll call my father, and if what you're saying is true, then maybe we'll see each other again," I said, stepping forward and trying not to get too close to her.
If I've learned one thing from movies, it's that you should be wary of strangers, especially when they say they know you or are family.
"That might be complicated."
"What do you mean? Are you going to stop me?" I asked, taking a step back to move away from her.
"No, of course not, but you won't be able to talk to him. Can we go inside and talk about this in peace and quiet, please?"
I slipped to the front door, keeping a safe distance from her, and opened it, making sure not to turn my back on her.
"There's no way I'm letting you in. Sophie! Can you come and see, please? There's a woman who claims to be Dad's mother!"
"Well, if you don't want me to come in, will you at least listen to what I have to say?"
"As long as you stay outside, that's fine with me." I said, pushing the door open slightly behind me, ready to close it in case of an attack.
Meanwhile, Sophie came out of her hiding place and joined us, standing slightly behind me.
"Your... Your father is dead, James."
"Oh my God!" exclaimed Sophie, putting her hands over her mouth.
"What are you talking about? That's nonsense! I spoke to him last week!"
"It happened four days ago. When did he last call you?"
âFive days agoâŚâ I said, suddenly having second thoughts.
âBut how⌠why would someone want to kill him?â
âThere are things about your father you donât know.â
âThatâs complete nonsense. I donât know who you are, so donât come back.â I said, before closing the door and going to my room.
I threw my bag in the corner and collapsed onto my bed, pulling out my phone to tell my friends what had happened that evening. I remained agitated while talking to them until Max sent a strange message into the conversation.
Maybe you should call your father to make sure heâs okay.
I stared at the message for a few seconds before deciding to call him. I sat up in bed and selected his contact to begin the call.
One ring⌠Two rings⌠Three rings⌠Four rings⌠The answering machine picked up.
I hang up, frustrated, and try again.
One ring... Two rings... Three rings... Four rings... The answering machine picks up again.
I start to panic and wonder what I'll do if this woman was telling the truth. I send a message to the group chat to let my friends know he didn't answer.
Maybe he's in a meeting or he's not at his phone.
I read Tom's message and calm down a little. He's right; he's had late-night meetings before, or gone off to do who-knows-what without his phone. To be honest, I don't even really know what his job is. I jump when someone knocks on my bedroom door.
"James? Are you okay?" Sophie asks through the door.
I get up to open the door and face her.
"Thanks, Sophie, it's kind of you to worry, but I'm fine."
âYou know, after all this time working here for your father, youâve become like family to me. Especially you, James, youâre like the son I never had.â
âOh, Sophie! You know, youâre like family to me too, and youâre like the mother I never had.â I said, hugging her.
I could tell she was very emotional, and she stepped back before leaving so I wouldnât see her cry. I smiled and went into my room, closing the door behind me. Then I thought about that old woman and what she had said, and my smile turned to anger. To calm myself down, I turned on my computer and started a zombie-killing game. Nothing like a game where you have to massacre everything that moves to relax.